Exile: An Amy Madison tale in Merrie Olde England.
by President Luthor
Summary: After Amy & Willow's black magic incident, Buffy gives Amy an ultimatum. Carry out a mission in England -- or else!! Giles must stop a Watcher's Council conspiracy to overthrow Elizabeth II. COMPLETED.
1. Prologue

CONCEPT: I'm thinking of a story with Amy Madison the witch/rat as the central figure. That doesn't mean that I'm going to forget the rest of the cast. Willow will definitely be there in the background. Buffy's presence of course, will be there too – just not in the butt-kicking lead heroine sense. I'm just throwing out this idea to see if there's enough interest in a tale focused on Amy. This is what I had in mind:  
  
After Willow and Amy's almost disastrous experimentation with black magic, Buffy draws the line. Essentially, Amy must leave Sunnydale. To get back into the Buffy circles good graces, she agrees to accept a dangerous task that Buffy has assigned her. Go to England and learn more about Spike. Buffy intends to use this information to prepare for the unthinkable: the death of Spike. And it would be on her terms. So far, Willow knows of this plot. (Hey, Buffy will need her to be the online link to Amy)  
  
Giles is already in England and must cope with an insidious scheme by some members of the Watcher's Council to overthrow the British monarchy. Let's just say Amy and Giles would cross paths. And for those 'Angel' fans – umm, sorry, he won't be in the story. But Wesley – on a self-imposed exile after betraying Angel's son to the forces of darkness (if you watch the show, you know what that means: Holtz, 'you swore that you would show him no mercy', etc.) – is also in England trying to reclaim his lost integrity.  
  
These are just some preliminary ideas. I'll stick to the spirit of the show, where poetic license permits.  
  
Oh, and the tale would be in real time ie) Amy will be in England in the days surrounding the funeral of the Queen Mother.  
  
To summarize: Amy (a whole lot of Amy), Rule Britannia and all that jazz, and the mandatory unspeakable evil.  
  
PROLOGUE to 'Exile' – an Amy Madison tale in Merrie Olde England:  
  
Amy Madison hated it. All I wanted was to push the envelope. How was I supposed to know that Willow would go just a little too far. Now I have to go to Great Britain. Some sort of Slayer punishment. "You have no choice," Buffy said, all decked out in her 'I-mean-business' overcoat and vamp- killer leather boots.  
  
"And if I say no?" Did I just say no to the Chosen One?  
  
Buffy stepped up to her and gazed into her eyes. "This isn't Florida. I'm not waiting for the hanging-chad ballots to be counted! Your recklessness almost cost me my sister! Your flight leaves for Heathrow tomorrow morning at five. Be on it – or say your prayers."  
  
"Buffy ..." Willow tried to intervene. Buffy didn't let her. "Stick with the program, or you can join rat girl in jolly old England." She stormed out of Willow's room.  
  
Willow tried to be sympathetic. "You can borrow my luggage?"  
  
"Dammit!" Amy grumbled. Damn it all to hell. Oh – I've done that scene. She shrugged as she continued packing.  
  
The radio interrupted: "... the Queen Mother dies at age 101 ... the procession is expected to be the most elaborate in half a century ..."  
  
"God save the queen," Amy mumbled as she sorted her travel documents. I hope the weather is better now in London.  
  
Your thoughts? 


	2. CH. 1

Chapter 1  
  
[Heathrow Airport]  
  
Amy looked around. I'm in Britain. It would have been fun, too – if not for the potentially dangerous task Buffy had assigned her: to uncover more about Spike's past. Yeah – THAT Spike. The vampire who killed two Slayers. She could not return without finding out something ... anything. One weakness that Buffy could exploit. Buffy knew that someday, she will have to close the chapter on Spike. Permanently.  
  
"Length of stay?" the customs officer asked.  
  
I don't know, she thought. "A week, y'know, sight-seeing and all that." The customs office returned her passport.  
  
"Have a nice stay."  
  
Amy approached an elderly couple. "Excuse me, do you know how I can get to the Hilton?"  
  
I'm sorry, we don't speak English. We're tourists they answered – in German.  
  
Great, I'm in England, and the first people I meet can't speak English.  
  
[London, Horse Guards parade grounds, Friday]  
  
Giles buttoned up the red tunic of the Scots Guards. He accepted the request by his former commanding officer to join the procession for the Queen Mother. Little was known about Rupert Giles. Buffy and friends knew he was a watcher from England, but they never pried further about his past – and he never volunteered.  
  
He looked at the ceremonial uniform. After several years in America, he felt uncomfortable with the trappings of British protocol. But it is tradition that made Britain a great power. He looked again at the photograph of his company of troops. It's been over 20 years. Giles told no one, not even Buffy, of his tour of duty in what is now known as the Falklands War. Too painful.  
  
We were all too young, he recalled. He remembered bullets whizzing past his head. "Keep your heads down, lads," the young Cpl. Giles had ordered. "We've gotta do something," Pvt. Clark has screamed. "I'm making a run for it!!" The Argentines had pinned them behind a hill. Giles was helpless as Pvt. Clark climbed the peak and was showered in a hail of enemy machine gun fire. "Malcolm!" Their company prevailed, but at a high price. His best friend was killed. Within a week after the war had ended, Giles resigned from the British Army.  
  
Giles looked again at the photograph and shook his head. He wanted to refuse his former commander's request. "Mr. Giles, you deserve to march shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of us." The Queen Mother was their honorary colonel-in-chief. I shall march, Giles thought, for those who couldn't come back. He put away the photograph and joined the procession.  
  
[Near Westminster Hall]  
  
Amy paid the taxi driver. She figured she would walk a few blocks to the hotel. She knew that the public were paying their last respects to the Queen Mum, but she never thought the line would stretch that long! She saw a dark-haired gentleman walk slowly up to the line.  
  
"From this point, the wait is six hours," the police officer announced. The gentleman took his spot at the back of the line.  
  
Amy walked up to him. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce?!?" Wesley turned around and was stunned.  
  
"Umm, hi. Weren't you supposed to be ...?"  
  
Amy continued. "...spinning my heels in an exercise wheel in Willow's room? Willow reversed the rat spell."  
  
Wesley remembered Cordelia saying something about Willow's magic addiction. Something to keep an eye on.  
  
"I'm here on behalf of my father," Wesley explained, "He couldn't be here in person." Wesley was going to leave it at that, but he had been in England for weeks. He didn't return Cordelia or Gunn's phone calls. They were concerned, but there really was nothing they could do. It was I, Wesley, who made contact with Holtz. I was the one who unknowingly betrayed Angel's only son. God knows where he is now.  
  
So Wesley explained. Everything. I don't know why I'm telling her these things. I barely know her.  
  
Amy listened intently. As Wesley described his loneliness at having no one to confide in, she realized something. I felt exactly the same way. While Buffy developed strong friendships in Sunnydale, Amy was left to sort out her supernatural baggage alone. She never had a mentor – a Giles to guide her. And here I am, standing in line with a bona fide watcher. Well, ex- watcher, but that's a minor technicality. Maybe there is such a thing as fate, after all.  
  
"So what are you doing here?" Wesley asked her.  
  
"On a mission for the Slayer." Nice choice of words, Amy told herself, it'll sound important – in a saving-the-world kind of way.  
  
"Mission?!" Wesley was puzzled. In England?  
  
"I'm supposed to learn all I can about Spike, his weaknesses, everything,"  
  
"Intriguing," Wesley said. Spike, the murderous vampire who nearly had Angel tortured to death a few years ago. Perhaps Buffy was finally going to put that ... thing ... out of its misery for good.  
  
"Can you please, please, help me with this? Buffy will not be amused if I come back with nothing! I'm a witch. I know nothing about bloodsuckers! Please?!" Amy blurted, clutching his arm.  
  
"I'm not a watcher anymore," Wesley resisted. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in another messy project. I botched up that last one with Holtz. "I don't have access to their archives. I don't even have many of my books with me."  
  
"Please, please, please, please." Amy's pleading was starting to attract the attention of London's Finest.  
  
"Okay, okay!" Wesley smiled and waved off an officer who thought Amy might be a bit crazy. "Show me what you have and we can take it from there."  
  
"Ummm, I just arrived from the States today. I have zip!" she pouted.  
  
Great, Wesley thought, we have to start from scratch. One hour to go before we get to Westminster Hall. This is going to be a long wait ...  
  
[Watcher's Council, a castle in the Scottish highlands]  
  
"The time to act is now!" the council member demanded. "I am not going to wait for the Prince of Wales to take the throne!"  
  
"With the Archbishop of Canterbury making overtures to the Vatican, before long, we'll be taking our orders from Rome, instead of Buckingham Palace!" another member complained.  
  
They're like children, the chairman thought. Squabbling over who gets what present on Christmas Day. We've only just begun and they can't agree amongst themselves. It's up to me, as always. The chairman raised his glass of wine. "Shall we toast to it? On that – at least – we can agree!" The dozen Watchers raised their glasses.  
  
"To the future Republic of Britain!!" they cheered. On the table were documents outlining their objective: the collapse of the House of Windsor. 


	3. CH. 2

Chapter 3  
  
[McDonalds, London]  
  
Wesley brought over the tray of food.  
  
"That's one quarter pounder with cheese. One milk. And the coffee for me. We could have chosen a better place to eat ..."  
  
Amy glugged the milk. "Hey, it's my mission. So, what's our first step?"  
  
Wesley shook his head. After several hours in line, and Amy's incessant chattering, he had a bit of a headache. "I know of a coffee/magic shop in the East End. Basically a public library of all things supernatural. It's not exactly the Watcher's Council archives, but it's a start."  
  
Amy clapped in celebration. "Goodie! When can we go!" She bit into her burger. "It needs more cheese."  
  
"Hold on a second," Wesley interrupted. "This shop is in a rough part of town. Just follow my lead. Their policy is 'no questions asked' – so don't volunteer any more information than is needed."  
  
He stirred in some sugar and was about to pour in the last cream. Amy squirmed. "Could I have that last cream? Ever since I left the rodent species, I've been having these insane dairy cravings!" Wesley handed over the last cream, which she slurped quickly.  
  
"Okay, Wesley, let's go, no time to waste! We don't have, like, forever. The Slayer's counting on us. Actually, can we swing by the market first? I have a hankering for cheddar right about now."  
  
Wesley sighed. I think Rupert Giles is more suited to this sort of project. What's he up to these days?  
  
[Watcher's Council, Scottish castle]  
  
Roland paced around the hall. He saw Giles down the hall – still in the ceremonial red tunic.  
  
"Awfully formal, don't you think, Rupert?" Roland shook his hand.  
  
"Duty called. I was part of the procession to Westminster Hall. At least I was able to catch a flight with the RAF. Why the urgency?"  
  
"The chairman's done it," Roland groaned. "Trying to drag the Watcher's Council into the political affairs of the country!"  
  
Giles laughed. He heard all of this before. "What – he wants to donate money to the Tories again?! I wouldn't be too concerned."  
  
"It's serious this time! He's pulling out all the stops. There's even talk of starting a brand new party from scratch to challenge Blair's Labour."  
  
No, Giles thought, he's finally going to do it. The council would be divided between the so-called 'traditionalists' who prefer things the way they are – and are content to leave the Queen alone. Then there's the chairman's group of radicals, who want the Council to meddle in worldly affairs – starting with this nutty scheme to make Britain a republic.  
  
Well, it would be nutty, except the Watcher's Council had a financial reserve worth billions of pounds. And tremendous knowledge of the supernatural. If anyone could turn this republican fantasy into reality, it's the Watcher's Council.  
  
"He's got a dozen Watchers on his side. What are we going to do?"  
  
Giles looked out the window, over the green highlands. "We're going to put a stop to this. It's utter nonsense. Watchers are supposed to be guardians of the spiritual realm, not plotters and schemers bent on power! We stop this. Call the others. We've got to be ready."  
  
After Giles and Roland left, a lone raven soared off the ramparts. He just learned some interesting things from Mr. Giles.  
  
[Sunnydale, CA]  
  
Buffy walked into Willow's room. "What's the latest on our girl in London?"  
  
Willow clicked her mouse. "Look. We have mail! She found an Internet cafe near the hotel." Buffy looked over her shoulder and read aloud: "... a bit cold here ... bought a brick of cheddar ... Wesley's helping ... "  
  
"With Wesley's brain-smarts, Amy should find out tons about Spike in no time!" Willow exclaimed.  
  
Buffy nodded. I would have preferred that Wesley wasn't involved. He's too close to Angel. Still, two heads are better than one. Especially one as cheese-obsessed as Amy Madison.  
  
"Buffy," Willow mumbled as Buffy left the room, "I'm sorry. About Dawn."  
  
"I know," Buffy said. I'm going to send Dawn away on a trip, if – I mean, when – I finally make that decision. No need to get her involved. If Spike is to die, it will be by my hand. Mine alone.  
  
She left the house for a night of patrols. 


	4. CH. 3

Chapter 3  
  
[Coffee shop, London]  
  
Amy looked at the sign. "Devil's Advocate? That's original."  
  
"I know it doesn't look like much," Wesley explained, "but perhaps we can learn something about Spike here."  
  
At the front, there were couches, tables, a fireplace and a small counter where a few customers sipped their coffee. In the centre was a reception desk. The librarian -- a short, bald man -- stopped them at the desk. "Library card?"  
  
"Huh? Oh yes," Wesley pulled out his wallet. "Right here."  
  
The librarian typed on the computer. "It says you have an outstanding late fee. 10 pounds."  
  
"Late?? Which book?!"  
  
"The Powers-That-Be: 1945-1990."  
  
Wesley shrugged and paid the fine.  
  
Wesley and Amy settled down at a vacant table. "Alright, what do we know about Spike so far? Roughly a century old, give or take a few decades. Became a vampire during the latter half of the 19th century."  
  
"He killed two Slayers – no easy feat," Amy added. "Hey, didn't you say he used to hang out with Angel when he was bad-to-the-bone Angelus? Maybe you could ask him ...?"  
  
"I don't think Angel is in a mood to talk to me about now." Wesley dismissed the idea. Angel wasn't really that close to Spike anyway and rarely divulged much about his murderous past.  
  
While Wesley buried his nose in some obscure medieval transcripts, Amy explored the shelves. Magic. The undead. Miscellaneous phenomena. She spotted a tiny shelf: herbs. Could be useful for spells, etc. She picked up an old manuscript – likely dating from the Elizabethan era.  
  
"This might be helpful."  
  
Wesley squinted at the small print. "There are hundreds of entries. It'll take me hours to go through them all."  
  
Amy smiled. "Leave that to me!" She snapped a finger. The room seemed to spin. When it finally stopped, Wesley checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed.  
  
Amy tapped her forehead. "It's all up here now! I've read through the entire manuscript. A little time-space magic. I guess you could say I'm a 'speed demon', huh?"  
  
I'm impressed, Wesley nodded, we might as well use her abilities. "Any insights?"  
  
"Mostly minor healing herbs, y'know, headaches, arthritis, but there is one herb that could be of use. Ever heard of the Arimathea Lily? Supposedly it could ward off evil spirits, and maybe ..."  
  
"...it could ward off vampires." Wesley completed her sentence. Arimathea ... as in Joseph of Arimathea, the early follower of Christ who provided the tomb where He would later rise from the dead. He remembered the Arthurian legends describing Joseph's travels to Britain and persistent stories that he also carried the Holy Grail to England. Perhaps he also brought this lily.  
  
"I'm not sure if it's still around. It may even be extinct." It had some possibilities, Wesley hoped, if we could only find one. "I'm afraid potions and spells aren't my forte."  
  
"Hello?! Witch here! Ya gotta see the glass as half full, Wes! Let's go find this lily." Amy was already gathering some of the books.  
  
"But we don't even know how or if this lily really works, or if it's just a pagan old wives' tale," Wesley began, but Amy was already at the book checkout desk.  
  
"So where do we find this lily?" Amy asked.  
  
"Southampton." Wesley answered. I haven't had time to catch my breath and Amy has me going off on some crusade for an obscure flower that may not even work properly in a spell – if at all.  
  
"Make sure you bring these back on time," the librarian insisted. Amy and Wesley left the cafe and entered the London night.  
  
[Country manor, northern England]  
  
The raven returned to the chairman. "What have you learned?" the chairman asked.  
  
"Giles and Roland are definitely up to something. They aren't pleased with your plans," said the raven.  
  
"Giles – as in Rupert Giles?! He's still living in a dream world: trying to keep the supernatural world at bay, when he should be embracing it, as we are!" He looked over the book of spells, embossed with a pentagram.  
  
"Is that ... black magic?" one of the Watchers asked.  
  
"No, Thomas, it's a Martha Stewart cookbook. Of course it's bloody well a black magic book!!!" He turned to the chapter on 'Controlling the free will of others'.  
  
Thomas scratched his head. "But I thought we were, you know, going to take over Britain by starting our own party, building a base of support and finally beating Blair in the next election."  
  
"Well, that's the plan we have on the surface. Meanwhile, we're just going to help the public decide that the monarchy is long past its due date."  
  
Thomas grinned. "Mind control."  
  
The chairman stood up. "Yes. All we need is one ingredient. One ingredient ... and there'll be no turning back. England will be a republic by New Year's Day!"  
  
"What's the ingredient?"  
  
The raven squawked. "A relatively rare plant. A flower, actually. The Arimathea Lily."  
  
The chairman gathered his papers and clutched the spell book. "Our chopper awaits us. To Southampton,  
  
then? Not even Mr. Giles can stop this."  
  
On the field, the pilot informed him that his contact in the Real IRA accepted the task.  
  
I'd better check the telly tonight for the news, the chairman smiled.  
  
[London, near St. James' Palace]  
  
The motorcade of His Royal Highness, Prince William, sped past Giles as he walked down the street. A dozen police cycles trailed behind.  
  
"Quite chilly, tonight, isn't it, Rupert," Capt. Williams of the RAF asked.  
  
"A bit brisk," Giles replied, "Thanks again for the lift."  
  
"Not a problem. It's been over 20 years, hasn't it? Since ..."  
  
"Yes. Since ..." Giles remembered parachuting down onto the Falklands that night, so long ago.  
  
Williams was the pilot. "Expect heavy artillery near the town. MI6 says it's heavily fortified. Good luck, Giles." Giles and his company descended on the island, not knowing about the hellfire they were about to face. Such wasted life.  
  
They approached the defense department building. "Give my regards to Tricia and the kids." Giles shook his hands. Captain Tony Williams opened the door slightly. Giles heard a click. Dear god. The blast of the explosion shattered glass windows down the street. Giles crouched behind a parked car. Another blast. The building's entrance was now a black, smoke-filled chasm. Laying on the steps, Williams coughed.  
  
Wesley and Amy just turned a corner. They ran towards Giles, who clutched his friend's body.  
  
"We're going to get you to a hospital. You'll be home in no time," Giles pleaded, "Hang on, Tony."  
  
Dozens of constables swarmed the area. Amy clutched Wesley, who was absolutely horrified at the inferno engulfing the defense department building.  
  
"Tell my wife ... the kids ... I ... love them," Williams gasped, then slipped into eternity. Giles tried to give him CPR. "One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand." He held Williams and tried – again and again – to breathe life into him.  
  
Wesley stepped over to Giles. "Rupert. Rupert!! He's gone." Giles swatted aside Wesley's hand. No. Tony did nothing wrong. Why him? Why?  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," a police officer tried to console Giles.  
  
"With a blast of this size, it can only mean one thing ..." Wesley began.  
  
"The IRA," an officer cursed as he looked around at the debris." "Bloody hell!"  
  
"The bomb wasn't meant for your friend," Wesley said, and looked over at the motorcade down the street.  
  
A few blocks away, a royal assistant talked to Prince William. "There's nothing you can do, Your Highness. I know you want to help, but it's not your responsibility. You are the heir to the throne of England. You know as well as anyone the price of your role."  
  
Prince William looked at the devastation and shook his head. He saw Giles wiping his eyes as the coroner claimed his friend's body. He entered the limousine and picked up the phone. "Get me the Prime Minister." There must be something I can do. 


	5. CH. 4

Chapter 4  
  
[Outskirts of a rural town, Southampton]  
  
"We still have a ways to go, you know," Wesley remarked. He watched as Amy nibbled on half a brick of old cheddar. The detour to the farmer's market cost them an hour's traveling time.  
  
"There's a difference between farm-fresh and that processed stuff from those conglomerates. Trust me, I know these things. Wanna piece?"  
  
"No thanks." Wesley squinted at the horizon. The sun was setting. "We'll have to set up shop in a country inn near the coast. We can start our search in the morning." He was still unsure about the final objective of this mission. According to Willow, Spike and Buffy were rather cosy until recently. Perhaps the Slayer was more far-sighted than he realized. Spike was dangerous, no matter what The Initiative did to restrain his violent impulses. Buffy wanted to be prepared for the eventual 'battle to the death'. If this lily actually works.  
  
[London, 11PM]  
  
Giles was exhausted. He had just returned to his West End flat after several hours giving sworn statements to the police. The Real IRA delivered a coded message to the Guardian newspaper, claiming responsibility for the defense building bombing. The bomb was supposed to blow the next day, but Giles' friend apparently triggered it when he opened the building door.  
  
Giles unlocked the door to his flat. Someone clubbed him in the back. He spun around and lunged at his assailant's legs. They tumbled into the living room. Giles gasped as the attacker gripped him around his neck in a chokehold.  
  
"Okay, that'll be enough, Mike," a woman's voice said. Giles saw Roland, his fellow Watcher, bound and blindfolded on the couch.  
  
"Rupert, is that you?" Roland asked.  
  
Mike pulled Giles up to his feet. The woman looked squarely at him.  
  
"What do you want?" Giles demanded, "Who do you work for? The chairman? Real IRA?"  
  
"Hardly," she replied.  
  
"Do you expect me to talk?" he asked.  
  
The woman grinned. "No, Mr. Giles, I expect you to die."  
  
Giles struggled again, fearing for his life, but Mike held onto him.  
  
The woman looked puzzled "Goldfinger. 1964. The James Bond classic: no, Mr. Bond I expect you to die? Really, Rupert Giles, you should rent a movie once in awhile." She instructed one of her men to remove Roland's blindfold. She nodded at Mike, who untied Giles' wrists.  
  
"Melissa Thorne, MI5, British homeland intelligence." She held out her hand.  
  
Giles glared at Mike, who was expressionless. He turned his attention to Ms. Thorne and chose not to shake her hand. "I suppose M sent you. Or 007?"  
  
"Oh you DO have a sense of humour after all," she replied.  
  
"What's this all about. The bombing at the defense department? I told the police everything."  
  
Mike finally spoke. "We know of that incident and our people are working on it as we speak."  
  
Giles then saw Roland – rubbing his eyes. He must have been in captivity since Scotland.  
  
"The chairman." That's what MI5 was interested in. This scheme to depose the monarchy and/or the government.  
  
"I'm not quite sure what you're asking of me," Giles pretended. He preferred that the Watcher's Council stayed out of the public spotlight.  
  
Melissa anticipated Giles' concern. "Don't worry, Mr. Giles, we know everything. The Watcher's Council: guardians of supernatural knowledge. We won't be running off to squeal to the tabloids, if that's what you're thinking. The chairman. The Slayer. All of it. Did you know that the chairman used to work for us? East Germany before the wall fell. A bit of a rogue, he was."  
  
"So what do you want with me?" Giles scratched his head. This whole plot to dethrone Her Majesty was becoming messier with each passing day.  
  
"We want you, Mr. Rupert Giles. Or should I say, Corporal Rupert Giles, veteran of the Falklands War and formerly a librarian in Sunnydale, California. We want your insights. Your knowledge of the chairman. His confidantes."  
  
"How did you...?" Giles began to ask. Why bother. They'd have their ways. "Who sent you? Someone in the Watcher's Council?"  
  
"Someone higher than that," Mike blurted. Melissa darted a disapproving glance at him. Too much information, Melissa thought.  
  
"We leave for Southampton at once. The Arimathea Lily." Mike opened the door for Giles and Roland as they left the flat.  
  
Melissa dialed her cell. "Hello? Yes, Your Highness, Mr. Giles will help. He's fine, we didn't hurt him ... well, maybe his pride. He'll do his duty: he's a former soldier."  
  
At the other end of the phone, the young prince was pleased. As his ancestors did before, he would protect his kingdom.  
  
[Country manor, near Southampton]  
  
The chairman uttered a chant and closed his eyes. He was having a vision of Giles running across a meadow. Two others. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and a female companion. They're coming closer.  
  
Thomas, the Watcher stumbled into the room. "Sorry, sir, you wanted your fried chicken regular or extra spicy??"  
  
The chairman blinked. He lost the rest of the vision. Idiot! "Spicy, Thomas, I want spicy. Oh, and get me the macaroni salad too. Not that awful green colesaw crap. Now go!!" Thomas closed the door quickly.  
  
Giles ... AND Wesley. Two watchers recently returned to England. We'd better act fast. He held the black magic book. Embossed in gold was a motto in Latin: "I will not serve." Supposedly the line Lucifer uttered when he defied Heaven.  
  
The chairman cackled. The House of Windsor?! I will not serve. Not anymore. 


	6. CH. 5 (NEW! ANGEL'S 'Lorne' appears!!)

Chapter 5  
  
[A meadow in Southampton, near the shore]  
  
"Do you see anything, Amy?" Wesley was on his knees, examining a flower with a magnifying glass. All I've spotted is some local flowers, a few weeds and a seagull.  
  
"Nothing here. Give me a sec, I'm going 'supernatural' in a bit." She closed her eyes. "Separate." Amy was now out of her mortal body, soaring over miles of grasslands and rocky outcroppings. Getting closer.  
  
Wesley stood near her body. He peered at the horizon and noticed a few figures. Maybe a half-dozen. Men in trenchcoats.  
  
One crew-cut gentleman approached him. "Mr. Wyndham-Pryce?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm Richard. We're with MI5. A Mr. Giles sent us to assist you and ...?" He nodded at Amy's body.  
  
"She's – umm – napping. We've had a long day of sightseeing. She's from America," Wesley replied.  
  
"It's okay. We know all about your quest for the Arimathea Lily. We want to help you. It's our duty to protect the UK from all threats. Man-made or otherwise." Wesley noted that none of them flashed their ID badges.  
  
In the distance he thought he saw a familiar face. He caught a glimpse of one of the agents. It's Thomas, the watcher. And associate of the chairman.  
  
Amy had uttered: "Bind". She was in her mortal coil again. "Wesley?!"  
  
Wesley punched the lead agent in the face, toppling him to the ground. The other watchers rushed at them. "We want them alive!!" Thomas had hollered.  
  
"Amy. Run. Now!" Amy was rubbing her eyes, trying to shake off the effects of the spell. Wesley yanked her arm.  
  
"Let's go! Let's go!!" They ran for a bit, but Amy stopped.  
  
"Why, why are you stopping? It's the Watcher's Council! We have to get out of here. You do realize we're short a slayer – or an angel with a soul for that matter?!"  
  
Amy closed her eyes. "Descend" she uttered. Thirty or forty seagulls soared away from the cliffs and dived towards the watchers. Thomas looked up. SPLAT! A seagull's droppings covered his face. The other watchers tried to shield their faces as the seagulls squawked – dropping their waste on them.  
  
Amy hopped over a fence and jumped into the front left seat of their car. "I'll drive!" She looked ahead of her.  
  
"I'll drive," Wesley replied as he settled in the right seat. "It's Britain, remember." The car sped around the hills and disappeared from view.  
  
Thomas cursed. First he botched up the chairman's take-out order. I knew I shouldn't have bought cole slaw. And now they missed a chance to get the lily.  
  
One of the watchers wiped some droppings from his hair. "What'll we do know, Thomas?"  
  
"Stupid gull. One of the blokes bit me arse!" one watcher groaned.  
  
"I'm hungry," another watcher complained.  
  
"Damn. Dammit!! We're going to get some macaroni salad, that's bloody what we're doing, you stupid wankers!"  
  
Perhaps that will pacify the chairman. Handing him the Arimathea Lily would have been better.  
  
[Sunnydale, CA]  
  
Willow waited for Buffy to leave for her nightly patrols. Dawn had gone to sleep and Tara was watching Letterman.  
  
"H-hello?" she inquired on the phone. "Hellooo, helloooo?" No answer.  
  
"Hello, hello, I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello!" Willow sang.  
  
"Alright, alright. John and Paul, you ain't, honey." the voice on the other line said. "By the way, I just read you from your little ditty. You've got some serious relationship baggage, sis, and we're not talking Ellen and Anne Heche! Not to mention your tendency to delve into some hardcore black magics. That sort of mojo is just sooo not groovy, baby."  
  
"Lorne!" Willow exclaimed. Angel's lounge singing, green, horned demon/therapist with insights into the supernatural realm.  
  
"Willow, it's late. Letterman's Top Ten will be up soon. Why Nicole left Tom. Come on, you're cutting into my couch potato time!"  
  
"Sorry!! I need your help. It's Wesley. I haven't heard from him or Amy."  
  
Wesley. Lorne sat up. "I'm listening." Man, I sound like that pompous Frasier. No one – not even Fred – had heard from Wesley since he arrived in London. He never returned their calls.  
  
I hope he's okay, Lorne thought.  
  
[British Army base, Southampton]  
  
Giles exited the chopper, covering his head as the whirr of the chopper blades swished above him. Melissa, the other MI5 agents and the watcher Roland soon followed.  
  
Three dozen paratroopers stood at attention as their colonel inspected them.  
  
"What's all this about?!" Giles asked.  
  
Melissa raised her voice as the chopper blades whirred. "I'm placing these soldiers at your disposal. It seems your legendary exploits in the Falklands were enough to deluge us with volunteers. These are crack troops, fresh from the front in Afghanistan. The chairman is not to be underestimated. We'll need whatever edge we can to thwart his plan."  
  
"To overthrow the Queen?"  
  
"That's just breaking the surface, Mr. Giles. The Arimathea Lily is a means to an end. You do know why Joseph of Arimathea is of great interest to the Watcher's Council?"  
  
The lily. Giles remembered some ancient readings: "'Wherever the lily lays, there shall be found the cup of everlasting life. The cup of salvation' Dear god!"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Giles. The same cup that our Lord shared with the apostles on the Last Supper. The Holy Grail."  
  
The chairman's plans were more insidious than Giles had thought. The holiest relic of all Christendom ... should it fall to those rogue elements of the Watcher's Council ...  
  
"So how many of these paratroopers do you want to take with us?" Melissa asked.  
  
"All of them. We must leave at once." He picked up a spare rifle, checked the nozzle and flicked off the safety lock. "There's much more at stake here." 


	7. CH. 6 (NEW CHAPTER!)

Chapter 6  
  
[A town inn, Southampton, evening]  
  
"Ouch!" Wesley yelped as Amy applied some antiseptic on his hand. The watcher he punched had a jaw of concrete.  
  
Amy applied some ice on his hand. "We don't want it to swell up."  
  
We don't have much time, Wesley thought. The renegade watchers are already here in the countryside. If we don't find the lily in time .....  
  
The phone rang. "Hello?" Amy answered. "It's for you Wesley ... somebody called Lorne?!" Wesley thought of refusing the call. He didn't feel like explaining himself – yet again – about his actions leading to the apparent kidnapping of Angel's son. Despite his instincts, he took the call.  
  
"How the hell did you find me?" Wesley demanded.  
  
"Easy on the negative energy, pal," Lorne snapped back, "I called your dad's place. He's worried about you too, you know."  
  
"What business of it is yours?" Wesley insisted. "I suppose you're going to tell Angel where to find me, so he can finish me off?!"  
  
"Look, whatever mission you're on for Queen and country, it must be important enough if the Slayer's behind it. Willow told me everything: Amy, the lily, those nutty watchers. What Buffy forgot to tell you guys is ... that chairman – the big boss of the baddies – he's into some messy black magics. Oh, and your bud Giles is in the neighbourhood ... and Wes, take care of yourself."  
  
"Thanks." Wesley hung up the phone. He stood up and peered out the window. It was getting foggy.  
  
"Everything okay?" Amy asked.  
  
"Have you ever felt like – I don't know – like you're the only person on earth. No one to trust, no one to care about you?"  
  
Amy remembered the way Buffy glared at her. As if the Slayer had a monopoly on righteousness. It was her friend Willow that abused black magic. Well, I did open the door for her, but Willow walked through that door. I didn't force her. Yet, I'm the one to blame for her mistakes. All's cosy and good when Willow screws up -- she's the Slayer's best friend. When Amy Madison makes a mistake – whoa look out, the Slayer's on my case.  
  
"Oh, I can soo relate with that!" Amy replied. Wesley sat on the bed and stared at the wall. He remembered how Angel tried to smother him with a pillow shortly after that last conflict with Holtz. The pure hatred that peered from his friend's (is he still a friend) eyes. Fred admonishing his for "not trusting" them with the dark secret: "The father will kill the son". It turned out to be an elaborate hoax: a deception used to ensnare Angel's son. He sacrificed everything: his friendships, his work, his integrity ... for a lie.  
  
Wesley laughed. "How could I be so stupid." He laughed, until the tears welled up in his eyes. "All for nothing," he mumbled as he buried his face in his lap – and cried.  
  
Amy hesitated. What do I do? She did what any normal person would have done – she put an arm around him to console him. Wait a minute ... there is something I can do!! "Just say the word, and I can snap up a 'forget' spell. You can wash away all that pain, that guilt. Just tell me ... and I'll do it!"  
  
Wesley stood up. "That is NOT how regular people deal with problems. We don't run away from them!" He paused. That's exactly what I'm doing right now. Hiding in Britain, waiting for Angel to respect me again. Amy looked puzzled.  
  
"This isn't Wizard of Oz! I can't just click my heels and go home again. I've hurt my friends. How can they trust me again. And magics ... aren't supposed to be used like aspirin! They should only be used responsibly."  
  
"I wasn't suggesting ..." Amy began. I just wanted to help!  
  
"This isn't a game any more, Amy! This isn't Sunnydale, where your biggest fear was what dress to wear to the prom. Lives are at stake! If you can't appreciate the severity of our situation – then perhaps the Slayer was right not to trust you."  
  
Then Wesley looked at Amy. A look of ... mistrust. No, not mistrust. He looked right through her, it seemed. As if she wasn't even human. Something evil, ... or worse.  
  
"I was just ..." she began, then her emotions caught up with her. She grabbed her jacked and ran out into the street ... into the mist. Sobbing.  
  
In his anguish, Wesley realized that Amy was going through the exact torment. Alienation from her friends. Feelings of utter despair. I've done it again – failed to trust the people around me.  
  
He ran after Amy and grabbed her arm. She yanked it away. "Leave me alone!" she cried. "You don't ... don't know ... how lonely it is. Willow was a close friend ... and she's turning her back on me. I want to help people. Magics are the only gift I have ..." She knelt on the cobblestone road and cried. "My curse!"  
  
Wesley hugged her. "I was out of line. I'm sorry." She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. "I'm soo sorry. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel." Here, on this misty street in some nameless Southampton town, no one – not Buffy, not Angel, not anyone – could understand the need for friends better than Wesley and Amy.  
  
"There's a pizza parlour around the corner," Wesley suggested, "We'll order a big pizza – extra cheese – get warmed up. Then we'll go back to the inn and plot our strategy. The Watcher's Council doesn't know who they're messing with. A tough-as-nails witch ..."  
  
Amy laughed "... and a rebel watcher on a quest for justice!" They dashed down the street.  
  
Melissa Thorne, MI5 agent, peered at them from her car. "Are you sure you can trust them, Mr. Giles?"  
  
"We're going to need as much help as we can," Giles answered. Their car zoomed away to the rendezvous point – a beach along the coast. The paratroopers must have scrambled by now, he thought.  
  
[Country manor, Southampton, dawn]  
  
The chairman licked his fingers. I loove extra spicy chicken. He pulled out the macaroni salad ... and emptied it into the cauldron.  
  
Thomas protested. "But I thought you wanted the large-size one?"  
  
The chairman slapped him on the back. "It's exactly what I want. There's an ingredient in the special sauce that fits this spell.  
  
Another watcher chomped on a drumstick. "How's this spell gonna give us England in a handbasket, again?"  
  
"I told you already," the chairman muttered – impatiently. "Mind control. We'll have the PM pass a law abolishing the monarchy."  
  
Richard, the watcher whose nose Wesley almost broke, mumbled in the chairman's ear. "Without the lily, we won't know where to find the Grail."  
  
Thomas' eyebrow raised. Grail? He knew the chairman was slightly obsessed with Arthurian legends. But the Holy Grail. It's a myth. A medieval fairy tale.  
  
A phone rang. The chairman answered. "Yes. Yes. You're certain. Very good."  
  
The watcher with the drumstick drank his cola. "What's up?"  
  
"Gentlemen," the watcher announced. "We know where the lily is. By midday tomorrow, the House of Windsor will be little more than a minor footnote in history! We leave at once!!"  
  
For the first time, Thomas felt nervous about the chairman's plans.  
  
[Early morning, a meadow near a ruined abbey, Southampton]  
  
Wesley sneezed. "My allergies!" He sneezed louder.  
  
"I noticed something yesterday here, but we were a little busy with the watchers."  
  
Wesley read the Latin inscription on the crumbled abbey gate. "It says: 'That which he used to seal the covenant with his brothers lies herein'" The local townsfolk said this abbey was the ancestral home of a Knight of the Round Table.  
  
Amy sat down in front of a patch of weeds. There, amidst the dew-tipped grasses and weeds, grew a white flower with a purple centre. There was no other flower in the meadow like it.  
  
"By the heavens," Wesley crossed himself, "Living proof that Joseph of Arimathea, the follower of Christ, arrived on these shores." He remembered the Latin motto on the abbey. "... which he used to seal the covenant ... which He used ... covenant with this brothers ...". He repeated the lines over again.  
  
"You've got this Sherlock-Holmes-elementary-my-dear sparkle in your eye, Wes. Well??"  
  
"The lily is important, but not a goal in itself. The lily is a means to an end. No. Oh no."  
  
"Wesley? Spit it out!"  
  
"The chairman wants to find the lily ... so he can find the Holy Grail! The Grail!!"  
  
No wonder he said, 'oh no', Amy thought. Wesley opened an urn and scooped out the lily at its roots, clumped with a mound of dirt. He handed the urn to her.  
  
"You must hang onto this. Whatever the cost."  
  
"Ohmigod!" Amy waved her hands. "Oh my god! It's a the-world-is-at-stake situation, isn't it."  
  
"Promise me you'll hang onto this urn at any price. No matter what happens to me, or anyone else who comes after it." He shoved the urn into Amy's hands. "Promise me!"  
  
"Okay, okay! Hang onto it. No matter what."  
  
Wesley looked across the meadow, opened his knapsack and pulled out a dagger. He slipped the dagger into his belt and shouldered a long axe. He marched ahead. "Run. Now."  
  
Amy looked. Great, the watchers from yesterday's skirmish arrived. They brought a few friends. And plenty of swords.  
  
Wesley began to sprint. "For god's sake, run, Amy Madison! Run!!!" He yelled as he lifted the axe.  
  
Amy ran. This little flower ... this lily ... was a sign of life. Proof of faith. She cuddled the urn and began to run. If I'm to make a difference, now is the day. She closed her eyes. Magic time ... 


	8. CH. 7 (NEW CHAPTER!)

Chapter 7  
  
[The meadows surrounding a ruined abbey, Southampton]  
  
The ocean waves sprayed up as they clashed against the high cliffs. Gulls squawked as they circled over the rocky shore. The morning fog was beginning to lift. Today would be a beautiful day.  
  
Giles returned to the amphibious landing craft. He was wearing a non- descript olive green uniform. You'll blend in, Melissa had told him. He handed back the rifle to the corporal.  
  
"You don't know how to use a rifle?" the soldier assumed.  
  
"No," Giles replied, "I've used one more times than I dare to remember." These shores reminded him of a rocky beach in the Falklands – twenty years ago. He picked up a small semi-automatic weapon.  
  
This should do, he told himself. But if I know the chairman ... no mortal weapon we possess may be able to stop him. The chairman was a warlock – one of the most powerful in Britain.  
  
He saw a plane high above them. Parachutes began to open and sail down towards the meadow.  
  
Melissa was already half-way up the cliff, dressed in – how typical, Giles smirked – a secret agent black spec-ops jumpsuit.  
  
Giles attached the line to his belt the scaled the cliff. Ready, aye, ready, he muttered to himself.  
  
[A meadow near the abbey, morning]  
  
The watcher Richard, with his nose bandaged, unsheathed his sword, accompanied by a dozen of the chairman's men.  
  
They couldn't pursue that girl with an urn. Mr. Wyndham-Pryce blocked their path.  
  
Wesley clenched his teeth. "You know not what you are doing. Leave, and I'll spare you."  
  
Richard chuckled. "Sorry, lad, you're outnumbered." The other watchers pulled out their guns. "Step aside!"  
  
Wesley stepped forward. "No." He began to charge, wielding his long axe. "No!"  
  
"Kill him!" Richard ordered.  
  
Amy watched as the watchers aimed their guns at Wesley. "Repel," she hushed. The bullets fired and would surely hit their mark in seconds. A blue shockwave rippled from Amy and paused in front of Wesley. The bullets deflected off the shockwave and towards the mob of watchers. Three of thw watchers fell instantly, struck by their own bullets.  
  
"Nice trick," Richard remarked, then swung his sword at Wesley.  
  
"I still have a few to spare," Wesley parried the blow with his axe handle.  
  
Scores of parachutes descended on them. British paratroopers. About a few yards behind the abbey, the chairman arrived with about 50 watchers and henchmen loyal to his cause.  
  
"Fools! They know not what they're about to witness. The dawn of a new age." he mumbled. "Finish them!" The mob pulled out swords, axes, staffs, rifles and sabres. They charged as the paratroopers collided with them. A melee of hand-to-hand combat ensued.  
  
Thomas and a smaller group of watchers broke away from the battle. Another party – led by Giles – tried to outflank them from the cliff to the rear.  
  
"I can hear the battle in the distance." Giles detached his cable.  
  
"I've brought the battle to you!" Thomas yelled and landed a punch squarely into Giles' jaw. Melissa, the MI5 agents and a few soldiers soon found themselves in close-quarters fighting.  
  
Giles and Thomas both pulled out their guns at the same time. "It appears we have a stalemate, Thomas."  
  
"I'm prepared to use this gun. Are you?" Thomas challenged.  
  
Giles looked at the corner of his eye. The chairman was using black magic to attack the larger force of paratroopers, who screamed as their bullets were turned against them. Not again, Giles feared.  
  
He aimed the gun at Thomas' head. "I don't want to use this, Thomas! Not if you don't force me too!! The chairman has misled you. You and the others."  
  
The other watchers looked at each other in confusion. Giles continued. "He means to use the lily not just to overthrow the Queen. He'll use it to find the Holy Grail! Do you think he'll share power with you once he's achieved his ends."  
  
Melissa joined in. "Mr. Giles is right. The chairman cannot be trusted. If you continue this fight, you'll be little more than traitors. Surrender now and no one gets hurt."  
  
Giles lowered his gun. "Drop your gun, Thomas. We're not your enemies." He motioned the others to lower their guns. "Together we can stop the chairman. Thomas, you're an honourable man. I know you are." Giles placed his gun on the ground and extended his hand out. "Don't let the Grail fall into the chairman's hand."  
  
"Drop your guns," Thomas ordered, "Drop them now!"  
  
"Is he telling the truth, Thomas, sir?" One of the watchers asked.  
  
"Yes." Thomas replied. "Rupert Giles may be many things, but he's not a liar." The band of watchers dropped their guns. He walked up to shake Giles' hand.  
  
Then the chairman materialized in murky green fog. "Thomas, you fool! You could have served by my right side." He levitated a sword, and hurled in in the air towards Thomas.  
  
"Nooo!!" Giles tried to push Thomas aside, but it was too late. Thomas gurgled and collapsed on the ground. Melissa's men dashed towards the chairman, but he disappeared in another green fog.  
  
"Rupert," Thomas coughed, "your friends – friends – have the lily. Help them!" Giles nodded. "Rupert ..."  
  
"Yes?!" Rupert clutched Thomas' failing body.  
  
"I'm a good man, right. A good man. God ... save ... England." Then Thomas the Watcher breathed his last.  
  
Giles pulled out his gun. "We end this now .." he commanded, "or die trying!!" The watchers who followed Thomas cheered, picked up their rifles and joined them.  
  
In the main battlefield, the chairman waved his hand, tossing aside whatever soldier tried to block his path. To his right, paratroopers were being blown off their feet by tornado-like winds. Black magic had kept his safe so far. He saw Richard grappling with the traitorous watcher Wyndham- Pryce.  
  
Richard knocked Wesley to the ground and raised his sword for the fatal blow. Wesley swung his axe in one desperate lunge ... and caught Richard on the feet. Richard groaned as his knee buckled. The axe had cut a gash in his calf.  
  
Wesley wiped the blood from a cut on his cheek. "It's over. This mad plan of yours to capture the Grail. You'll never find it without the lily. I know! Without it, the Grail will remain lost. Hidden. It was never yours to claim!!"  
  
The chairman stepped closer. "So you're a student of the Grail legends, too?! Yes, it is over. For you."  
  
He waved his hand, conjuring a green dagger. The dagger zipped through the air, stabbing Wesley in the side.  
  
Amy shrieked. She was physically exhausted. She had cast dozens of spells. Shielding spells. Deflection spells. Even a few healing spells, as the casualties mounted. Still, it was not enough. A pool of blood was forming under Wesley. He would be dead in minutes.  
  
"Stay," Amy whispered, with all her strength. A blue cloud formed over Wesley, suspending time ... and his inevitable death. For the rebel watcher, this fight is over.  
  
I have nothing left to offer, Amy sighed. The cliff was at her back now. She hugged the urn. I'm at the cliff's edge now.  
  
"Nowhere to run, witch." the chairman declared. "If you choose to resist, I will kill you. Your friends are of no use to you. I can sense your confusion. Your fear. I know everything, Amy. I know of the Slayer's schemes. She saw the bigger picture, too."  
  
"She knew nothing about your grail scheme!" Amy objected.  
  
"Did she?! Or was she plotting all along to seize the lily – and its power – for herself?"  
  
Amy looked behind her. Several stories high. If I jumped, it would be certain death. The waves crashed against the jagged rocks below. In the distance, Wesley gasped for breath. Don't do it, Amy. Don't jump. We'll ... find another way.  
  
She looked inside the urn. The white lily with the purple centre was as glorious as ever. A covenant with his brothers, the Latin motto had said. I tried everything. I can't fail. Not now. I will do this. This will be my covenant. My gift.  
  
"If this lily shall be used to do evil, then none shall have it," Amy declared. She dangled one foot over the edge. No, the chairman mouthed. She leaned back – and fell. For what seemed like an eternity, Amy soared in the air like a bird, then plunged towards the rushing surf. She could feel the mist against her skin.  
  
"Blessed be," she hushed, then plunged into the awaiting darkness. Oblivion.  
  
"Such a waste," the chairman cursed, "I guess she trusted the Slayer after all." He walked towards the ruined abbey.  
  
Giles ran to the cliff's edge. He could see nothing. "No further," Giles ordered and pointed his gun at the chairman.  
  
"You won't shoot me," the chairman smiled, "you are like me, Rupert. You thirst for knowledge. Whether you join me or fight me, it matters not. You want to know what I know. That's why you will just let me walk away. Your fighting days are over." The chairman turned his back and strolled away.  
  
Giles saw the fallen soldiers on the battlefield. Their sacrifice will not be in vain. He raised his gun and fired three accurate shots. Two in the chairman's back and one in the back of the head. The chairman struggled to face Giles – perhaps to cast one last spell. But he had dropped his guard. No black magic on earth would save him this time.  
  
"Didn't see that ... coming," he moaned, then died mere yards from the site of the Holy Grail – so the legends claim.  
  
"I thought he was a warlock," Melissa wondered.  
  
"Yes, but he was a man. A man who thought he could defy the heavens," Giles tossed aside his gun. "I'm sure you intelligence types will make all this go away."  
  
"A gun-running scheme gone bad," Melissa nodded, "We already have the clean- up teams in place."  
  
"How nice," Giles shook his head. "I'll leave you to your work." He walked towards Wesley, who was being placed onto a medi-vac chopper.  
  
Melissa stepped in front of him. "We could use your – talents – at MI5." Giles walked away, ignoring the offer. "You were a soldier, once. What of your duty to England?"  
  
Giles looked at the battlefield. At the chairman's corpse. And the rocky cliff to the distance.  
  
"I believe I and my friends have done our duty for today," Giles replied and climbed into the chopper.  
  
Wesley looked at Giles – and wept. Amy kept the urn. At all costs. 


	9. CH. 8 (The Conclusion)

Chapter 8  
  
[Cafe in London, several days later]  
  
Giles looked at the headline of the Guardian: 'ARMS DEAL GOES BAD: DOZENS DIE IN COASTAL MELEE'  
  
"Well, it looks like MI5 managed to keep the whole Grail connection a secret," he said.  
  
Wesley sipped his tea. "Probably a wise decision. The public's not ready to face the truth."  
  
Giles nodded. "The cup of salvation ... do you think the whole thing is a legend: lost in the mists of time?"  
  
Wesley stared at the soaring spires of St. Paul's Cathedral. "I guess we'll never know. Are we afraid to find it? Do we even want to find it?"  
  
"Perhaps what people most afraid of is ... what the Grail means ..."  
  
Wesley remembered Amy taking that last horrific step off the cliff. Clutching the urn with the lily of Joseph of Arimathea. She would not let it go. She would take it to her death rather than let it be used for evil.  
  
"The Grail was worth ... dying for." Wesley replied. He changed topics. "So what of your plans, Rupert?"  
  
"The chairman may be defeated, but there are like-minded people in the Watcher's Council who will not rest until they grasp the most revered relic in Western civilization. I can only hope – and pray – that there are men like Thomas who will make the right choice and prevent that from ever happening."  
  
"I guess the fighting ... is not over for you."  
  
Giles adjusted his glasses. "No, I'm afraid it's not."  
  
The server interrupted them, carrying a potted plant. "Mr. Wyndham-Pryce? I believe this is for you."  
  
The Arimathea Lily!! Giles' jaw dropped in amazement. Wesley quickly turned around. He thought he saw a young woman step into a cab. He blinked ... and it had vanished.  
  
"There appears to be a note," Giles handed it over to Wesley, who read it aloud.  
  
'Hey Wes, I told you I'd keep an eye on the lily! I watered it and fed it some really expensive plant food. Now I'm asking you to keep it safe until it reaches the Slayer. She'd better appreciate it too. People died for it. In case you're wondering ... I did have one last spell left in me. That was too close!'  
  
"Wesley?" Giles asked, but Wesley was already rubbing his eyes.  
  
Giles continued: 'If you think you've seen the last of me, think again. We make a great team! Remember, Wes, you can count on me. Thanks for being my pal! Hugs, your friend, Amy Madison.'  
  
A horn honked. "That's my ride." Giles gathered his books and shook Wesley's hand. "So I guess you'll be delivering the lily to Buffy?"  
  
"I'll make sure it gets to her. Anyway, I have things to straighten out in L.A." Wesley waved at Giles, who sped away into the London traffic.  
  
I may not have much say with the Slayer, Wesley admitted, but I do know of someone who'd make an excellent messenger ...  
  
[Sunnydale, CA]  
  
Dawn waited on the couch. Buffy hadn't returned from her nightly patrols yet. Usually, she'd call by now if there were problems. Ring! The doorbell. Dawn rushed to open the door ... and saw a green, horned creature. In a leisure suit.  
  
Dawn shrieked. Lorne – Angel's demon pal – waved his hands, trying to silence her. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, kid! I know pastel colours aren't in vogue this year. Hello, Yves St. Laurent?! The threads aren't THAT bad!!"  
  
Dawn screamed again. Tara and Willow appeared at the top of the stairs. "It's okay. Lorne's a friend of Angel's."  
  
"Oh, uhhhhh, alright," Dawn replied, "I'll leave you guys to ... uhh ... catch up." She sprinted upstairs.  
  
"I'd better get my sunglasses," Tara joked, "That suit is blinding me!" Lorne laughed mockingly, but they were already upstairs.  
  
"Where's the Slayer?" Lorne asked. "Right here!" Buffy stated, and promptly punched Lorne in the back.  
  
"Owwww!" Lorne crumpled to the ground.  
  
Willow held back Buffy's arm. "Buffy! Wait ... he's good. Lorne's a friend of ... Angel."  
  
Buffy's face paled. "Sorry! Is Angel ... here???"  
  
"Sorry, babe, the Morbid One has some unresolved family issues in L.A. I've got some news for you ... about the lily."  
  
Willow gasped.  
  
"Well??" Buffy demanded. Lorne opened the door. The potted lily was in the passenger seat.  
  
"We'd better go for a drive, Slayer." Lorne started the ignition. When they were a few blocks away, Lorne began to explain.  
  
"Sorry about the cloak-and-dagger stuff, Buffster, but the information I have is strictly for your ears only. The lily is extremely important."  
  
"I know. With the right magics, it's the vamp-demon killing equivalent of cyanide! What else did Amy find out about Spike?"  
  
Lorne smirked. "Well, let's just say there's not much more to find out. Once Amy and Wes stumbled upon this lily scheme, this fact-finding mission of yours became a drop-everything-lets-save-the-world-from-dark-forces kinda mission!"  
  
The car stopped at a red light.  
  
Buffy frowned. "What's the big deal about this lily? It's rare, but so are plenty of others with magical properties!"  
  
"I take it you're not up on your Arthurian legends. Let's say this guy Joseph, a buddy of the Lamb of God, was entrusted with the cup of the Last Supper and traveled to England. This lily is the supernatural treasure map to the Holy Grail and – should it fall into the wrong hands –"  
  
"Yadda, yadda ... chaos reigns on earth." Buffy finished the sentence. "Wow!"  
  
"My thoughts exactly, sis. We're talking Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade kinda badness!! That's what Wesley told me."  
  
"I hope Amy didn't cause any problems over there." Where is that witch, anyway, Buffy wondered.  
  
"From what Wesley told me," Lorne continued, "the little witch saved the day." He handed the lily over to Buffy. "You're holding the keys to the cup of salvation, honey, thanks to Amy."  
  
Green light. The car raced off. They pulled up to Buffy's house.  
  
"Why me? Oh right ... I'm the Chosen One," Buffy mumbled.  
  
"That's right. Make sure you keep that lily safe! I don't wanna have to drag Angel's gloomy butt up here to fix things. If I have to put up with another two hours of his self-flagellating griping, I swear I'm going to blow a gasket!" Lorne zoomed off, singing something from 'West Side Story'  
  
Buffy walked into the house. Willow smiled. "Is that ..."  
  
"The most beautiful thing on earth," Buffy replied, clutching the potted lily. I'm keeping it in my room. Safe. Thanks, Amy.  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
Amy screamed. With joy. She was zipping along the Greek coast on a jet-ski.  
  
"Come on, Wills! The water's great!!" she hollered.  
  
William winced at the lack of protocol. Wills?! He shrugged it off.  
  
Melissa, MI5 agent and confidante of His Royal Highness, walked to the edge of the yacht. "I could fetch her, Your Highness. Lunch is almost ready."  
  
The young prince opened the case in his hand. A medal for valour. 'To Amy Madison. On behalf of a grateful kingdom. Elizabeth II.' And well earned.  
  
"No. Let her play. She deserves to have some fun."  
  
THE END ... for now ... 


End file.
